


Unannounced

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2019)
Genre: F/M, my first fic for this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 19:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19092031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: The reader is caretaker to the widow of the manor but one day she returns to an unexpected visitor.Warnings: non/dub con sex; violence.This is dark!Charles Blackwood and explicit. 18+ only.





	Unannounced

**Author's Note:**

> Wait! Did I write a Charles Blackwood fic? I may just have! It’s my first foray into the character and I only watched the movie once but I hope you guys enjoy. FYI he’s a real fucking prick in this! But let me know what you think <3

With the exception of finding viable blueberries, your weekly trip to the grocer had been a success. Every item on the list was in the single paper bag in your arms and you walked patiently up the main street towards the manor hidden in the valley just beyond. Mrs. Callisby would be disappointed but you hoped the blackberries would be an acceptable substitute for her morning yogurt.

Since the death of her husband, you had been Ada Callisby’s caretaker. She was a kind woman, if not a little meek, but fussy nonetheless. She let you know when she was unhappy but otherwise was mostly amiable. Your flats scuffed on the pavement as you turned the corner and swept your way along the avenues and drives. At the gates of the widow’s manor, you paused; you always pulled close the wrought iron when you left. It assuaged Mrs. Callisby’s nerves as she agonized over her mother’s pearls and husband’s timepiece.

You frowned and carried on, another mystery as a cherry red convertible sat in the drive. You wondered at who was so important that Mrs. Callisby had rose to answer the doorbell and subsequently opened the gates. She wasn’t particularly limber with her cane and bent back. You stepped closer to the car, balancing the paper bag against your hip as you examined the exterior. The leather was entirely unmarked and the paint perfectly polished. It was either new or the owner was a meticulous materialist.

“Excuse me,” The voice frightened you; unfamiliar and pointed. “Can I help you?”

You turned slowly and looked up at the man standing at the top of the steps that wound up to the side door. You blinked and scoffed. “I should ask you the same.”

“You must be the nurse,” He leaned against the rail, his blue eyes flashed. “You like the car?”

“Not really.” You stepped away from the convertible, “A little too much for me.”

You began up the steps unflinchingly and he watched you ascend coolly. He pressed himself to the railing as he waved you inside but you stopped and turned to him. “You haven’t told me who you are.” You said.

“Charles Blackwood.” He grinned, “If you must now.”

“Blackwood,” You repeated. Ada was a Blackwood before she was a Callisby. “Hmm, so what are you doing here?”

“A little familial visit. Are you usually so inquisitive?” He challenged, his lashes fluttered for just a moment.

“I am when I return to a stranger in the house and Mrs. Callisby unseen,” You countered.

“You needn’t worry. My great aunt is quite comfortable in front of the fire,” He emphasized her relation as he spoke. “May I help?” He offered to take the bag from you.

“It’s quite alright,” You turned away from him and ducked through the door.

Your flats tapped down the hardwood and you sensed his presence as the man who called himself a Blackwood followed. You entered the kitchen and set your wares on the counter. You began to unpack the groceries, sorting them on the marble as you felt him watching you. You looked up and lifted a brow.

“Are you so eager to help?” You asked wryly.

“Not particularly,” His blue eyes trailed away. They were sharp, analytical; as if taking stock of every floorboard and cupboard door. “I’ll check on my aunt.”

“Mmm,” You grumbled and crossed to the larder. “If you would trouble yourself, you can tell her I’ve returned and that her lunch will be prepared shortly.”

He smiled, “I think I can manage that.” He spun on his heel and left you to roll your eyes. Something about the man unsettled you. The cut of his suit, the mien of his walk, the curl in his lip. He was a swindler with a rich man’s pedigree.

You finished putting away your haul and heated up some tomato soup on the stove. You cut a bun and buttered it just how Mrs. Callisby liked and set it all on a tray with a glass of milk. You balanced the tray along the hallways and followed the scent of the fireplace. When you entered the living room, the widow was in her chair before the hearth and Charles was just across from her. He was in your usual spot but you weren’t bothered by it. You rarely sat as it was; only to help feed the only lady though she could still mostly handle that herself.

“Your lunch, Mrs. Callisby,” You placed the tray on the table at her elbow.

“What took you so long, today?” She asked as she glanced over her arm, “You are usually returned by noon.”

“I couldn’t find the blueberries. They’d all turned to mush,” You explained with a courteous smile, “I picked out some blackberries instead.”

“Well, it should have to do,” She grumbled as you slid the table before her. “A berry’s a berry, I suppose.”

“Suppose it is,” You narrowed your eyes and peeked over at Charles who seemed rather intrigued by the conversation. “And you got a visitor when I was gone.”

“Oh, yes. Very unexpected,” She raised her spoon and dipped it in the bowl, a dribbly scoop in her mouth before she continued. “I heard the bell and thought perhaps you had left your key. I mustered my strength to go and find you but I found this young man down there. He helped me open the gate, of course.” She preened over at him, “A noble man, my nephew.”

“Is your nephew staying for dinner?” You asked stiffly.

“I think he should,” She answered with bluster, “He should be here for some time. This old house could use a man’s touch.”

“You’ve a hired gardener coming next week and handyman on call,” You asserted, “Surely your nephew is above such work.”

“On the contrary, I owe it to my sweet Aunt Ada after so long neglecting her.” He crooned, “I do apologize but you know us young men, Aunt, we get carried away in our wiles.”

“So you do,” You muttered before raising your voice, “I suppose, Mrs. Callisby, it will be nice to have family close.”

Your eyes met Charles and his eyes narrowed as his cheek twitched. Such a spontaneous visit. No one ever visited a childless widow without purpose and rarely was it savoury.

-

It was a whole week. Charles remained at the manor and you were due for your third trip to the grocer since last week. You had not accounted for the strange man and his appetite. Mrs. Callisby counted out enough to buy for a feast and you gave her back half. She tucked away her wallet and you smiled at her before putting a record on for her. The music helped her nerves when she was alone. You waved to her as you neared the door, a broad figure blocked your path at the last moment.

“Charles,” You exhaled sourly.

“Y/N,” He leaned on the door frame, his striped grey shirt braced against his chest…it was awful similar to one of Mr. Callisby’s hanging in the old armoire. “Off to the market, again?”

“I am,” You answered in a stunted voice. His blue eyes flicked over you to Mrs. Callisby as she hummed in her chair. “Excuse me. I should be off, I had wanted to be back by noon.”

“I’ll drive you,” He offered, “You won’t have to lug all those groceries up the hill.”

“I prefer the walk,” You replied and attempted to side step him. He filled the frame with his body.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You do so much around here, let me help,” He looked, rather, leered down at you. “I could go for a visit to town myself.”

You pressed your lips together and repressed a sigh. “Fine.” You held back a scowl, “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” He finally removed himself from the doorway. “My pleasure.”

-

The car ride was tense. With the roof down, the wind kept you from any conversation. Charles pulled up in front of the bank and parked. He smiled over at you and climbed out. As you opened your door and stepped out, he appeared just beside you and his hand rested on the handle. He waited for you to step up on the curb and closed it. You didn’t buy this whole gentleman act which had gulled Mrs. Callisby.

“Is there a diner around here?” He asked. You pointed to the opposite corner. “Why don’t we meet there. I’d like to do a little exploring while you’re about your errands.”

“Sure,” You grumbled, “That works.”

You were relieved that he wasn’t coming along to plague your entire trip. You parted, taking measured steps down the pavement before glancing back over your shoulder. He was watching you, too. You turned back and dipped into the grocer’s front door with a chime of the bell. Much of your shopping was done in distraction. Your basket was heavier than usual and the shopkeeper remarked on Callisby’s appetite.

“Not so much her stomach as her kindness,” You muttered as you counted out the bills, “She has a nephew in town…Peculiar man.”

“Ah, yes, he must be the one in that convertible.” The cashier remarked, “He was down’s at Hurley’s the other night.”

“The other night?” You echoed. What would Mrs. Chattersby think of her nephew sneaking off to the local watering hole?

“Just two days back,” The man answered, “He’s a hell of a card player.”

“Mmm,” You took your change and your bags, “Well, thank you. You have a good day.”

“And you, too, Miss,” He replied with a smile, “Give the widow my regards.”

You pushed through the door backwards and righted yourself on the sidewalk. The soles of your flats whispered along the street and you glanced in the windows that lined the main fair. You stopped short as you saw the back of a familiar head just inside the jeweler’s. Charles’ body blocked whatever it was the jeweler was examining on his counter.

Charles’ hands went to his hips as he spoke, his voice muted by the glass. You squinted and drew yourself away from the facade; you did not relish the conversation should he turn and catch you spying. You crossed to the diner and entered with a sigh.

“Miss Y/N,” The owner, Gerry, greeted, “What a treat it is that you should stop by.” You smiled. On her birthday and a few other occasions, you would bring the widow down for a special lunch out. “Where is Mrs. Callisby today?”

“Just at home. I’ve only come to do the shopping,” You nodded to your bags and set them down on a table, “Maybe a coffee, too.”

“Certainly, my dear,” Gerry was jolly enough. His thinning white-hair and round stomach lent him an air of warmth. As he flipped the mug upright on its saucer before you and filled it from the urn, the door whined and signaled the arrival of another. You sensed Charles’ shadow as he approached and he passed Gerry to sit on the bench across from you, “Coffee, sir?”

“Yes,” Charles answered without courtesy, “Some menus too.”

“Oh, no, I’m not very–”

“Let me treat you,” Charles asserted and nodded to Gerry as he finished pouring. The owner blinked at the man warily but retreated without comment. “I figured you could use a break.”

“Really, you don’t have to,” You scratched your chin, “I think we should get back sooner than later.”

“Oh, my aunt will be fine. Despite your doting, she’s a strong old woman,” He leaned back, his arm stretched across the seat of the booth. “I’d say she can handle herself just fine.”

You added milk to your coffee and stirred. You could feel his eyes following your every move. You tapped the spoon on the rim of the cup and set it carefully on the saucer. “I know that. How long do you think your visit should last?”

“As long as she’ll have me. We spoke this morning. I think it prudent that I stay and tend to the house. The garden is looking rather overgrown, wouldn’t you say?” 

You shrugged and he sipped from his coffee black and smiled. He leaned back as Gerry set down a pair of menus on the table. You thanked him as Charles merely watched him with poorly hidden impatience. 

“It shouldn’t take me very long to see that all is in order.”

You picked up your menu and focused on the words. _All was in order before you got here,_  you thought as you hid your grimace behind the cardstock.

-

The next day, you were about your daily chores when you were surprised by an open door. That room had not been opened since the week after Mr. Callisby’s funeral. You walked carefully down the corridor, your eyes stuck to the pale light glowing from the frame. The long curtains were open, the sunlight illuminated the dust floating in the air before the outlines of each frame burned along the wall.

You recalled the last time you been in that room. The widow had ordered you to help her in removing every painting from its fixture. The framed canvases were then leaned in rows against the walls, their faces hidden from the world. That was, until today. You heard the friction of wood against wood and you peeked in as Charles turned one of the paintings to face him. He hung his head and sighed. You crossed your arms as you stood in the doorway.

“This door was locked,” You commented; your voice crisp in the thick air.

“My aunt gave me the key,” He turned, his blue eyes fiery. You had caught him off guard. “What happened in here?”

“This was Mr. Callisby’s collection.” You shrugged, “People grieve in different ways. I figured your aunt didn’t like the reminder.”

“This,” He spun back and gripped the carved frame, “This alone has to be worth over twenty grand.”

“A farthing among the bunch,” You assured him, “Mr. Callisby had quite the eye.”

He shook his head and revealed the next canvas in line. “She could sell them for more than the worth of this manor.”

“They were her husband’s,” You bristled, “The sentiment would garner them priceless, I think.”

He let the canvas fall back into place with a clunk and looked to you once more. “They are my aunt’s now. Family heirlooms.”

“Yes, they are your aunt’s,” You dropped your arms and backed out of the frame, “To do with as she pleases.” 

You continued down the hall as you heard him huff darkly. You frowned as you recalled that Mrs. Callisby had lost the key to that room six months ago.

-

It was a rainy day. You had just put the widow down for a nap as the weather had set a stone in her head. She’d sleep for a couple hours while you finished sweeping the hallways. You had always envied her for her sleeping habits. She never hesitated to doze and rested soundly and steadily. 

You began just outside the kitchen, then along the corridor by the living room and the series that followed it. You turned each corner with pan and broom; the first floor done in just over an hour.

On the second floor, you paused. A distant tinkling rose from an open door. You set aside your broom and pan and inched towards Charles’ room. It was one of numerous guest rooms in the manor; the most commonly used of the bunch. You peeked through the small space between door and frame, the old music box tolled in the afternoon hush. It was opened just on the writing desk in the far corner; a neat stack of papers beside it.

You poked your nose in further and glanced around. The room was eerily empty. The melody lent to it a sense of gloom. The stained glass lamp shone a mosaic of shadows across walls and ceiling. You swallowed as you tried to listen past the metallic song. You tiptoed through the door, pushing it open just enough to permit your entrance. You held your breath as you neared the desk, stopping just behind the chair.

A pen lay crooked across the paper; a carefully written inventory. You flipped through the papers, each labelled by its respective room; kitchen, living room, main floor guest room… Every item in the large manor had been recorded in the chart, an estimate of its value alongside it. The music box finished its refrain and the click of the door punctuated its finale. 

Your head shot up and you spun around in surprise. Charles leaned against the closed door in nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts. You gripped the back of the chair as you stared at him. 

“I knew you were going to be a problem,” He said, “Always snooping around.”

“I–”

“Why don’t you like me?” He interrupted.

“Why are you keeping this?” You tapped the paper on the desk.

“I asked you first,” He tilted his head.

“Because I’m not a childless old lady in the midst of losing her facilities,” You answered bluntly, “Your turn.”

“I told my aunt I would keep account of the house for her. Maintenance and bookkeeping alike.” He smirked as he pushed himself away from the door, “Though I think she might require a new caretaker.”

“And I’m certain she has other nephews out their who could do just a good a job at casing her house,” You sneered.

You tried not to flinch as he got closer. He neared until you were forced to retreat, the wall stopping you with an ‘oomph’. He planted his hand over your shoulder. “I think I’ve been rather nice to you, Y/N. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I think you’ve acted according to your motivations,” You returned sharply.

His jaw squared and he closed his eyes. He exhaled and opened them again. “You’re a stubborn bitch, you know that? Nosy, too.”

“And you’re a swindler,” You snapped, “Now, get away from me before I scream.”

“You think she would hear?” He smirked, “All the way across the manor…fast asleep with a headache.” He leaned closer, “And what would she do if she did?”

Goosebumps rose along your arms and neck as his hot breath grazed your face. “Move,” You whispered, “Now!” The shout surprised even you as the panic rose in your chest. 

He had his hand over your mouth and held you firmly to the wall. “Now, you see, I would’ve convinced your aunt to be rid of you days ago if I thought you useless,” He growled in your ear. His other hand was on your hip. “If you didn’t intrigue me so entirely.”

“Grrmph,” You tried to push him away as his hand remained clasped over your lips.

You grunted and tried to snap at his palm. He ripped his hand away before you could bite him. You reached to remove his other hand only to be stunned by a strike across your cheek. His knuckles left your cheekbone throbbing. He grabbed the back of your neck and dragged you across the room. You tried to dig your heels into the carpet. With a shove, he had your knees crashing into the low footboard of the bed.

You fell onto the edge of the mattress and tried to push yourself back to your feet. With a slap on your ass and another push, you were forced back onto the bed. You rolled over and kicked out at him with a snarl. He caught your foot and the other and held them together. You struggled to free yourself and he grunted in frustration. He tugged on your ankles harshly and you crashed to the floor with a wheeze; the breath rushing from you.

You laid prone across the carpet, grasping your chest as you tried to breathe through the agony. He dropped to his knees and straddled you beneath him. You coughed and batted him away as his hand reached for the front of your blouse. 

“Get off!” You shouted, “Get–” Another backhand and your head was cloudy.

“Shut up!” He barked and a trickle began at the corner of your lips.

You mumbled senselessly as you felt his fingers at the buttons of your blouse. He ripped it open, the buttons flying around in a sprinkle. You reached up to still his hands and his fingers slid up to your neck, closing around your throat as he leaned over you.

“Keep it up and it’ll only get worse.” You kicked your feet as he squeezed. Your lungs burned and your head pounded. Silver dots rose in your vision as he finally released you.

Your chest rose and fell frantically as he forced your blouse down your arms, untangling it from beneath you with a jolt. You whimpered as your head spun. You felt your skirt loosen and he shimmied it along your legs. You struck out blindly and he easily pushed away your hands. Your stockings and shoes were ripped off as the carpet scratched your back.

You turned over as you tried to lift yourself to your knees. He caught you and you fought as he rolled you onto your back once more. He grabbed your hair and lifted your head as he bent over you, his nose almost touching yours. “I swear, I’ll bash your head against the floor until you can’t fucking move. Now stop.”

You felt the heat at the corner of your eyes as the tears pricked. Your entire body went limp as he let go of your hair and sat back. You were trapped beneath him as his hands snaked behind you and unclasped the hooks of your brassiere. You closed your eyes as he slid it down your arms and you were bared to him. Next he worked on your underwear and you dug your nails into the carpet as he drew them down your legs.

“Tell me you don’t get lonely in this dusty old mansion,” He stood over you and you peeked through the slit of your eyes. You shut your eyes tightly as he yanked his boxer down his legs and kicked them off. He straddled you once more, his head next to yours as he leaned over you and spoke lowly in your ear. “Shit. Pent up in here, all I’ve been able to think of is you.”

His hand cupped your breast and he kneaded it, his nose tickled your throat as he purred. His fingers trailed lower, “Or maybe, you don’t know what you’re missing?” He lifted himself on his knees as he grazed your stomach. He traced the vee of your pelvis before he stilled his touch atop your pussy. “Are you untouched?”

“Fuck you,” You choked out through your hoarse throat.

“Well, we’re getting to that,” He slipped his fingers between your legs as he brought his knees between yours. He spread your legs as he felt around and you gasped at his rough fingertips. He chuckled and sank his teeth into your shoulder. You whined through gritted teeth until he finally pulled away. “You’re already fucking wet.”

He pushed his fingers inside you and you tilted your pelvis without thinking. He pulled in and out as he nibbled at your ear. Your cheeks were on fire at the insolence of your body. He dragged your juices outside and spread them over your bud. He lingered there, swirling around as your body tensed. The flare it inspired within was humiliating. You pressed your head into the carpet with a hiss.

He lowered his head to your chest and circled his tongue around your nipple. He continued to tease your clit as a new twinkle bloomed in your chest. He closed his lips around your nipple and his teeth played with the very tip; a shiver ran down your spine, connecting with that in your pelvis. You writhed despite yourself and your feet arched painfully. You couldn’t resist it. You sucked your lip in, the blood salty on your tongue, as you whimpered out your orgasm.

“I knew it,” He rasped as he sat back on his heels. “You’ve been laying in your bed thinking of me, haven’t you? I see you watching me…daydreaming, perhaps?”

Your nostrils flared as your entire body trembled at his mercy. Even if you could think of something to say, your voice would not rise. He hooked your legs over his and pulled you closer. You reached out to grab the end of the bed but it was futile. He was much stronger than you and your body was like a sack of rocks, your head still a blur.

He rubbed his cock along your folds and tapped it against your clit as you winced. He dragged it down to your entrance and paused. You glanced down at him and his blue eyes sparked as he slowly pushed inside. You bit down on your tender lip and squeezed your eyes shut. His thick fingers gripped your hips as he sank into you and laughed as he filled you entirely.

“Ah, so there has been another,” He mused and he pushed painfully against your cervix.

He pulled out, another pause, before he slammed back in. You squeaked and clutched desperately to the bottom of the footboard. He gave several sharp thrusts before he steadied his pace. Your whole body rubbed painfully against the carpet. He plunged into you over and over as your arms shook and your fingers clung to the wood.

His hands slid up to your waist and he lifted you, forcing your grasp from the footboard. He held you so that you were at an angle, your arms limp as he worked into you. His pelvis hammered against yours as you felt and heard your juices spreading across him and you. You bent your head forward and covered your face as you felt another rise. You sobbed as you came again and he growled in response. His hand went to your ass as his other arm wrapped around your back. He guided you up and down his cock as he pounded into you. His grunts filled the air, nails digging into your flesh.

“This is what happens to nosy…” He rasped, “girls. You little fucking–” He groaned, “Bitch!” 

He buried himself entirely and you felt the flood of warmth. He slowed until he came to a final halt, still inside of you as he leaned his head against your shoulder. You tried to shove yourself away from him but he only held you firmer. 

“Don’t fucking move.” He warned and slowly lifted his head to look at you, “You’re not done yet.”


End file.
